SheWolf
by Porcelain Destiny
Summary: Logan's comfortable running from the ghosts of his past. When a girl catches his eye in a bar, things change and Logan is sent on a journey he will never forget.
1. Chapter 1: The Meeting

"She got a temper, don' she?" a man said, leaning over and nudging him with his elbow. He knit his brow and looked at the man with a scowl that usually made anyone else shiver.

"Yea, she does," he said slowly, looking at the man. "She work for you?"

"Ha! I wish! 'Sfar's I know, she ain't work for nobody. Can't nobody control 'er," the man was fat with thick, hairy arms and a few rotten teeth. "I bet on 'er every time though. She won me this here tooth!" The man gestured to his gold cap with a deep chuckle.

"I got $500 on her now," he said. He watched her movements. She seemed to anticipate every swing and every duck. She hit with frightening precision and he knew that ribs were cracking under her fists. He used to do that to people. It felt like a lifetime ago. Sometimes, during moments like this, he missed those days. The aimless wandering made him feel at home with his missing memories. He knew he wasn't missing anything during those days.

"Shoot, I got my mortgage runnin' on this fight and—there it is!" the man roared. He pulled out of his reverie in time to watch the man fall, lifeless, to the floor. The girl spit and dragged her arm across her mouth and scowled at the crowd roaring above her. She paced the ring, reminding him of a caged animal. She needed to get out of here. Even though she wasn't contracted by someone else, she worked for all of them. He pushed forward and grabbed a bookie by around the collar and tugged him sharply.

"Gimme the money," he growled. The bookie nodded quickly, searching his pockets for the money he owed him. Once he handed him the cash, he shoved him and pushed back through the crowd and out the door. He was going to find her. He shrugged his leather jacket on and stepped into the cold night air. The sharp intake of air made his lungs frigid and he decided quickly which alley he would wait in. He turned and crunched over the broken glass and gravel, pulling a cigar from his jacket pocket. It was a full moon; he'd have to find somewhere to hide. He lit it in mid-stride and waited in the shadows, the back door of the bar clearly visible. Hiding in the shadows was a skill he assumed he'd acquired in another life. Because he knew he was good at it. And he knew he'd have to be to wait for her. Another fight or two and she'd be stumbling out in the air herself. He looked down at his boots and puffed his cigar, waiting.

"Whadda ya want?" someone asked. He didn't look up. She was quick. And he was almost sure he could hear a growl resonating deep in her frail chest. "I don't owe nobody money so if that's what ya want, fuck off." She turned on her heel and crunched over the gravel. He watched her back as she searched her pockets for a light. His cigar had burned out almost an hour ago.

"Need a light?" he asked. He didn't yell or holler; it came off more of a whisper. Yet, she stopped in her tracks, shoulders hunched. He knew it. She turned and stared at him for a moment before striding back across the gravel, fists clenched and a cigarette dangling between her lips. He pulled out his lighter and flicked it in front of her. She leaned into the flame and sucked on the cigarette. She blew the smoke in his face before walking away again. He ducked out of the alley and stepped lightly a few yards behind her. She gave no indication that she was aware of his presence. He walked behind her until she flicked the butt of her cigarette into a puddle. He heard the faint sizzle. She seemed to be wandering aimlessly. He couldn't make sense of her movements or her walking pattern. Finally, she stopped walking. They stood in front of a vine-covered house. He surveyed the property from a distance, noting the broken window panes and the rotting porch steps. She turned and stared at him. He stepped from the shadows but didn't say anything. There was something about her, something…bestial.

Then, he heard it. That low, resonating growl tickled his ears a second time. He was certain it was emanating from her. And then his sharp nose picked up the scent. Masked by her trail of cigarette smoke, he hadn't picked up her scent. She smelled like the cold air and honeysuckle. The whole property, he noted, even from this distance smelled like her. Then, without further recognition of his presence, she turned and disappeared behind the house. He leaned against the brick wall providing his shadowy cover. He couldn't go back. Not yet anyway. But obviously his presence wasn't wanted here. That growl wasn't a pleasant, teasing one. It was a threatening one. And he knew that even though she was small, she could take him. And so did she.


	2. Chapter 2: A Drink

-I had some time after work so I thought I'd update again! I don't own anything cool related to the X-Men, but don't touch the OC! Unless you ask! :)

He looked up, the faint creak of a door swinging open catching his ears. He immediately slipped into the shadows of the building and waited. He had longed to feel the tingling, fuzzy feeling of his lungs repairing themselves as he puffed on another cigar but he didn't want to test her sense of smell. Finally, a strong wave of her scent washed over him and he relished it. That meant she was coming. He watched with sharp eyes, waiting for the slightest hint of movement. It had been almost twenty-four hours since he'd seen any movement around the house. Not even the tall grass of the yard seemed to sway with the wind.

There she was. She was wearing a gray dress with thin straps pulled over her shoulders. The dress stretched to her knees. He followed its hem to her hand, where another cigarette dangled idly. A leather bag was swinging from the opposite shoulder. He heard the faint clicking of metal against something but he wasn't sure where it came from. She glanced back and forth before trudging down the slightly sloped lawn of untrimmed grass. She took another long drag from her cigarette and allowed the smoke to pass through her nose. She had an intimidating presence. And he liked it. She glanced back and forth before crossing the small road and sauntered towards him.

Now, he could take her in. She was wearing dirty, low-top black and white Converses with frayed gray laces. She had several hemp anklets stacked on her bony ankles. She was wearing a dusky blue tank top underneath her dress. Her long curly hair was massed on her head, with long curls stretching from the bundle like tentacles. Her bag was dark leather, like he'd guessed, and the closer she stepped, the stronger the scent of cash grew. He was certain it was filled with her winnings from the week. She had a few hemp chokers tied around her neck and a few on each wrist. A lip ring, slightly off-center, accented her plump, pink lips. He heard the clicking sound much louder now. It was coming from inside her mouth. A tongue piercing, he guessed. She seemed to be a fan of piercings as she had several up and down each ear to match the facial ones.

"Din't I tell ya to fuck off?" she asked, stopping a few feet in front of him, and puffing on her cigarette again. Her warm, caramel skin was flawless and her eyes were a dazzling, moving array of colors. It was like a moving rainbow. They seemed to flash a brilliant red-orange when she spoke to him. The color settled and stayed stagnant.

"I wanted to buy you a drink," he said. Normally, he would've leapt at the chance to emotionally bruise her in some way but he couldn't bring himself to do it. All night he sat here and thought of their encounter, this moment. And that was not what he thought he would say. She took another puff on her cigarette, a long one, before dropping it and swiping her shoe over it. She looked at him expectantly, the red-orange flickering into a soft light green.

"You buy. Where's ya ride?" she asked, her eyes never leaving him.

"It's back at the bar. You can wait here, if you want, or we get both go get it," he replied. She clicked her tongue stud against her teeth impatiently. Now he could see it. She glanced up and down the street again and sighed. Her eyes drummed up into a yellow color. So they reflected her emotions. Red-orange was the anger he could almost feel resonating off of her. Light green was the step back, the contemplating of the situation and yellow was the buildup, the aggravation ready to erupt into anger.

"Come on," she sighed, turning and walking away from the bar. He followed her obediently, wondering how there could possibly be two bars in such a small town. She pulled a pack of cigarettes from somewhere on her person and slipped another one between her lips. She didn't light it but instead grabbed it between her fingers. They walked in silence up the road, finally turning onto a poor excuse for a main street. She shrugged the bag higher onto her shoulder before putting her cigarette back between her lips and walked up to the front door of a pub.

He shouldered his way in behind her and blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim lighting. She shouldered past the tables to stop at the bar in the back. She nodded to the bartender who dropped a shot glass of whiskey in front of her. She looked to him expectantly and before he could answer, she nodded again.

"Come here often?" he chuckled. She ignored his question and took the cigarette from her lips before tipping her head back and demolishing the drink. He did the same and sucked in air as the liquor bit at his throat. The bartender walked over and poured them both another drink. "So, what 'chur name kid?" She turned and looked at him. She managed to slip onto a vacant barstool and rest her elbows on the bar. She threw back her head and swallowed again.

"Yours first," she replied, searching through her pockets. She found what she was looking for and lit her cigarette. "Ya are a stranger, after all." Her eyes flashed a brilliant shade of purple.

"Logan," he muttered. They stayed quiet, each idly twirling their glasses. The bartender moved to pour more but she shrugged him off and puffed silently. He wanted to ask her questions, to explore her power but he knew he couldn't do it. It was like an unspoken rule for them. They couldn't ask questions unless the other did first. She clicked her tongue stud impatiently.

"Whadda ya want Logan? To buy me a drink?"

"Well, yes and no. Just a name. I used to be a fighter too, cage matches," he said. She slammed her glass down and took a long pull on her cigarette.

"If yer here to try and get me to stop, you're making a mistake. I can handle myself. I'm not some meek little girl," she said. He could feel the anger radiating from her. "If that's why you're here, ya might as well leave."

"No, that's not why I'm here," he started. But why was he here? He wasn't sure if it was the feat of strength that the small female produced or if it was her intoxicating scent. Or could it be the attitude that made her confident? He knew a part of it was simply because she made the inner beast in him howl for comfort and contact. She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly. She was growing impatient and for one of the first time in his memory, he actually felt threatened by someone. "You can do whatever ya want, I'm not here to tell ya not to," he tried again. He shifted his position. She was an animal and that mattered to them. Body movements meant everything and he was stupid to have forgotten that. "I ain't here to hurt ya either. Can I just get yer name?"

She sucked on the cigarette and motioned for another drink. The bartender came over and obliged her.

"Aya."

-Thanks for the Story Alert adds! Review & I'll give individual shoutouts! A special one to GypsyWitchBaby! Thanks for the inspiration and the review!


	3. Chapter 3: Driving

"How old are ya?" As soon as he said it, he regretted it. He knew never to ask a woman her age, but the fact that she drank and smoked and looked no older than 16 confused him. And no one denied her drinks. Maybe even humans could feel her power. She didn't snap at him, but turned slowly and a slight smile slipped across her lips.

"Old enough. Just like you. Where's your car?" She slid off the stool, stubbed out her cigarette on the counter and heaved her bag higher onto her shoulder. "ya buy this, I'll buy the next one," she said. Somehow a cigarette had appeared behind her right ear. She strutted out of the bar. He slapped down his cask and hunkered after her. He was being obedient. And he didn't like doing that. When he was outside, she was a considerable distance away. He jogged to catch up to her. What was he doing? He stopped in mid-stride. This was foolish. Since when did he, and the animal within, have to hunt to eat? Since when did he have to follow someone like they were the alpha. That wasn't right. But his nose caught her smell and he saw his feet stepping forward. He needed a shower when he got to wherever he was going. A cold one. "Are ya comin'?" she called. She was already at the bar's parking lot, wandering aimlessly between the pick-up trucks.

"It's this one," he said, fumbling with his keys. She approached the vehicle, a rusty blue Ford pick-up truck, with pale, ripped leather seats and a dusty dashboard. "It runs," he said in response to any questions she might have. She smirked and ripped open the door and slid across the seat. She dropped the bag between her feet and sat on her hands. "So where ya headed?" She shrugged and looked out the window. She jiggled her leg.

"It doesn't matter. Wherever you're tryin' to go is fine. Ya don't have a woman with ya do ya?" she asked, taking the cigarette from behind her ear and popping it between her lips. She didn't light it. Her eyes flashed a cool cerulean. He laughed at the thought. The last woman he'd had was three weeks ago with short, red hair and a sweet demeanor.

"No, there's no woman. I guess we can head East, maybe go for a city?" he asked, switching into gear and pulling out of the parking lot. Her tongue stud clicked angrily against her teeth and she grabbed her forehead in her hand and stared out the window. "Ok, or we can go somewhere else."

"The city is fine, I just have some bisness to handle. Whatever, let's go," she said. The clicking slowed to a rhythmic tinkling. He looked over at her. The curly tendrils springing from the center of the large bun she'd made at the back of her head. She was still jiggling her leg and her skirt had slowly worked its way up her leg to reveal a large portion of her tanned and toned thigh. "So, where ya from? Ya parents don't worry about you?" She turned and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He could see a flash of fire engine red.

"I take care of myself. I told ya that. If I gotta keep repeatin' it, we might as well cut the shit," she said, glancing again out the window. He smiled to himself but was careful not to chuckle. He saw so much of himself in this 5 and a half foot tall being it was incredible. And that animal sense. It never really left when he first considered the presence, but loomed ever present in the back of his mind.

"I was just wondering." Silence enveloped both of them and he wondered what shade her eyes turned when she was ignoring someone.

"They're dead. They died when I was ten." He glanced over at her but she hadn't shifted. His eyes helplessly drifted down to the revealed portion of her thigh. Oh, yea, that shower was going to be ice cold.

"Oh, sorry," he coughed out. She cranked the window lever until a cool breeze enveloped them. It was stuffy in the car but he hadn't thought to offer to roll it down. They weren't automatic so he couldn't do much to accommodate her. "How long you been floatin' around?"

"Lost track. Why do you drive this shitty thing?" she asked, her tone harsh and angry. She lit her cigarette and blew smoke out the window. She turned to him, her eyes a gentle green that looked like ocean waves floating back and forth across her iris. She wasn't angry but she was probably annoyed. He made a mental note to keep personal questions to a minimum. "Like of all the cars ya coulda jacked, ya took this? Was it 'cause there were n locks to begin with?" Her cigarette dangled between her lips. He could hear the gentle hum of her heart. Instead of thudding he usually heard whenever people looked at him, she was unusually calm. No matter what he did he couldn't get his heard around her.

"No, actually, because I didn't steal anything. I paid for this, and it runs. That's enough," he said. She huffed and blew a stream of smoke through her nose.

"I can get ya a better one," she said casually. He looked at her and scowled. What did this little lady know about cars? He didn't know much about them either, not that he could remember anyway.

"And how do you propose to do that?" he said. She smiled mischievously and took another pull on her cigarette. He thought she'd say that.


	4. Chapter 4: Test Me

-Ok, sorry it took such a ridiculously long time to write this chapter! I've been sick like crazy lately and too dead to write. I've already got plans for the next one so I'll hopefully get to post again within the week. I don't own Logan but Aya is all mine!

Personal thanks to...

GypsyWitchBaby- I'm stealing your shoutouts because I owe you so much! I've already written Logan's breaking point and I must say, I am proud of it! Still working on the in-between though!

needtowrite- Thanks for the Alert add! Yea, I tried really hard on Logan because he's one of my favorites (and Victor!). Thanks!

"Beer. Whatever ya got on tap, and you?" He threw his jacket into the booth and sat down, scowling. "The same for him."

"How old did ya say you were?" He scoped the place out, mentally noting the exits and the distance from here to his truck. He always did that and he never knew why. He was always aware of the exits and how many people he'd have to fight to get out in case of trouble. Just a habit, he'd picked up somewhere. But he couldn't say.

"That is so rude. So, ya never told me what kinda car ya wanted?"

"I'll tell ya when I see one. Now, kid, we gotta lay some ground rules down if you're gonna stick around—,"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Was I not invited? Din't ya say ya wanted me to come with you? Ground rules are fine with me, but I'm settin' 'em. First off, ya eyes wander anywhere lower than my chin again, and you'll wish you were born female. Second, we pay in shifts. It's an equal share. Thirdly, ya cut the personal questions. My shit is my business. Take it or leave it," she snapped. She ticked off her fingers to count each rule. The waitress returned with a tall, foamy glass of beer for each of them. "I'll have a hamburger, well done, with everything on it and a side a onion rings," she said. The waitress smiled and jotted down the order. Logan shooed her away with his hand and scowled at the young woman in front of him.

"You got a funny way of conductin' business little lady," he said, sipping the foam. She picked up a sugar packet and started carefully tearing the edges. "Alright. That's fair. But I get to ask questions, I'm not driving around a serial killer without my knowledge. Like, how are you gonna get me a different car? I don't steal and I ain't afraid of hard work." It wasn't a lie. He worked for all the money he made, except for the gambling. That he did only when he had to.

"I'm not a serial killer, okay? Does that make ya feel better?" she smiled, cocking her head to the side. She rolled her eyes and turned out the window. "Just know I can take care of myself. Been doin' it a long time."

"Obviously. So where'd ya learn to fight like that? A little lady like you isn't just born with it," he said. The woman returned. Aya smiled and took the plate from her.

"Dunno, just decided I'd try it out one day. It started with some girl's fight the bar hosted. I won, and it turned into big ol' guys like you tryin' to get their ass kicked," she said through a mouthful of onion rings. "What about you? Ya said ya fought?"

"Yea, just to get by when jobs were tight. I stopped in there to check it out, but you did enough for me." She chuckled. It was the first time he'd seen her genuinely smile, let alone laugh. And he heard the growl again. It might've sounded like a wheeze to anyone else, but his trained ears told him it was a growl. She polished off her onion rings and looked around. She finished the beer. He downed his and felt the slight tickle of what should've been a buzz. He wondered if she ever felt the same thing. She would've kept growing up though. When he was 18, he could still get drunk. But she didn't seem the slightest.

"So why don't ya have a woman? Men like you always do," she said.

"Travel too much," he said shortly. It was the truth. Whenever he was in town long enough, he would. But even then, it didn't last long.

"'Sat why you're always lookin' down?" she asked, smirking. She took a huge bite of her hamburger, dropped a few bills on the table and stood up. "Keep the change, Margot!" she called.

"You swinging through any time soon, sweetie?" the waitress, Margot, called.

"Probably not! Take care of that baby!" she yelled. She pushed through the swinging door. By the time he'd reached her she was twiddling her thumbs in the truck, waiting impatiently for him. A new scent pricked his overdeveloped nose and made him wonder what she was radiating this time. "Can we go?" she asked angrily as he pried open the door and slid in. He wordlessly shifted into gear and pulled out of the diner parking lot. It was still there, but what was it? Everything about her was different, so he couldn't identify what he smelled. Wait…no, it couldn't be. Fear?

"What's wrong?" he asked. He had to go about this carefully. He couldn't directly ask her what her fear was. He'd never get an answer that way. He glanced at her but her face was against the window. "Kid, I said what's wrong?"

"I heard you!" she snapped. She started jiggling her leg nervously and clicking her tongue stud against her teeth in rhythm. "Nothin'. I just don't feel like bein' here anymore. 'Sat a problem?"

"Nope."

Logan chewed thoughtfully on the end of his cigar. They were near Baltimore. He didn't particularly like Baltimore. He'd been once or twice. He'd found a woman, been to a few bars, and left. Aya hadn't said anything and long ago the steady breathing coming from her side of the car had lost its quiet, purring growl. He assumed she was sleeping. Which, to his inner animal, meant she trusted him. She was willing to enter a vulnerable state with him.

"Are ya gonna turn?" she suddenly huffed. Logan flicked the turn signal on and cut off a semi-truck to reach the exit. "What were ya doin'?" She turned to him, her eyes a flickering orange.

"Thinking. I thought you were asleep," he retorted. She snorted again to say 'as if.' Alright, maybe she didn't trust him. He glanced over at her when they came to a stoplight. She was jiggling her leg nervously and her tongue stud was clicking a little faster than normal. The smell of fear had gone down and switched to a sort of apprehension. "You hungry? Anywhere ya wanna go first?" he asked. He rolled down his window, needing another blast of cold air. He knew that he needed to take a cold shower before the beast within got control and he tried something stupid. But she might've had other ideas.

"I ain't hungry. We gotta find somewhere to stay first," she said. "What can you afford?" He glanced at her again as the light turned green. He turned down a narrow road, packed with cars and taxis. They were near the convention center. She was staring at him, her eyes a shade of pink. She was on the verge of anger he assumed. God, what set this kid off so much? But maybe her emotions were simply spoken through her eyes. His fuse was short too. You just couldn't see it as clearly.

"Wherever you wanna go is fine by me," he said. She rolled her eyes.

"There're too many people here. Stay somewhere less crowded," she ordered. He turned to see her what color they were now but she was facing the window again. He opened his mouth to ask why she wanted to be away from people, especially since she'd agreed to come to the city but he thought against it. Yet another secret to her delicious power. He breathed in her anxiety, her anger and her apprehension, wondering what sort of scents were radiating from his own body and drifting to her oversensitive nose. But he didn't ask. He dared not ask. He made the next turn and headed toward the rougher part of town, away from the tourist destinations and more towards the homeless, prostitutes and drug addicts.

They traveled silently through several city lights. Logan couldn't take his mind off her ability. And the ever growing physical attraction. That wasn't normal. He could stand to be around women without so much as a dirty thought, but with this one, this _girl, _he was dizzy with attraction. And it started at the instinctive level. He was certain she could sense the pheromones he must've been radiating because without turning she asked, "What are ya starin' at?"

"Nothing," he said. He turned the truck into a sleezy looking motel, sitting next to an abandoned warehouse and a street market. "Is this good?" Without a word, she climbed from the truck and slammed the door. She walked quickly towards the office and with his incredible hearing, the clicking of a tongue ring followed her. He leaned against the truck, arms folding over his chest, his leather jacket stretching tight across his back. He pulled a cigar from the inside of his pocket and chewed the end thoughtfully. He'd have to find more soon. Good cigars weren't like the kid's cheap cigarettes. He couldn't just find them anywhere, so he smoked them carefully. He wondered what he smelled like to her. Was it a lingering musk tainted with cigar smoke?

She had managed to pull a cigarette from somewhere and lit it while returning to the truck. Her eyes were a deep shade of amber and he could smell the anger on her. He grabbed his canvas bag from the truck bed and followed her. He didn't feel so much like a puppy right then, more like the beta male. He was important but she was still the leader. And an angry one.

"Yer 124 and I'm 126. See ya in the mornin'." She handed him his card key and stormed off. He watched her enter the room and slam the door behind her before he crunched across the gravel and opened the door to his room. It was dismally lit with a saggy bed, a small TV and a dirty bathroom. He'd spent nights in worse conditions. He dropped his bag and flopped down on the bed. Was trying to sleep worth it? His nightmares were ever increasing and more intense. But he needed to if he was going to keep driving. He stood up suddenly and shook off his jacket. Then, he sat back down and tugged his boots off slowly, tossing them across the wall to lie with his discarded jacket. He leaned back and closed his eyes, attempted to relax his body and sleep.

He dreamed he was riding a motorcycle over an icy terrain. There was nothing around him: no trees, no river banks, no people. It was just him and the motorcycle. He knew it was a classic one, from before the war. He couldn't remember which war though. Someone suddenly pulled up beside him. He couldn't see their face as it had started to snow. The snow was thick and heavy and freezing cold but the person didn't seem to mind. They kept steady with Logan until the thick snow turned into droplets of blood. He could hear screaming and searched frantically for the person next to him but they were gone. He swerved and stopped, determined to find them. He couldn't leave them behind. As he stepped off his bike, the ice gave way and he fell down, down, down. When he landed, he was in a swimming pool full of heavy plasma liquid. He yelled and pounded his fists on the glass, looking frantically for the person on the other motorcycle. Instead, he saw the haunted faces of people he knew were dead, people he knew he'd killed. Some were Asian with tanned skin and coned straw hats. Others were white men wearing gray wool uniforms and carrying muskets. Still others were wearing a strange symbol on their chests, carrying walkie-talkies and pistols.

"Logan!"

He tried to yell at them, to escape while they still could, but the liquid filled his mouth and poured down his throat. It tasted like metal, like pennies, and he thrashed around. Suddenly, his arms and legs were trapped as the liquid solidified, encasing him.

"Logan!" Logan roared suddenly and sat up, his three Adamantium claws extended in front of him, razor sharp. He panted, blindly searching the room for the person on the motorcycle, the people's faces he'd killed but he only saw Aya. It was just a dream. He sighed and retracted his claws. The bed sheets were balled up on the floor and the pillows laying on the nightstand. He looked from her to the front door. In response, she held up a card key and put her hands knowingly on her bony hips. "Just a dream? Thought you were bein' attacked or some shit." A cigarette was tucked behind her ear. He wanted a drink. A strong, hard drink. That was why he hated sleeping. That was what happened. He closed his eyes and a million things from the forgotten past flooded his brain in broken, senseless memories.

"Nightmare," he muttered. He stood and snatched his boots from the floor. He started to pull them on. "How'd you hear me two rooms away?"

"Ya were real loud," she shrugged. But he knew she was lying. It was her ability. He looked up at her as he tugged his boots on.

"Get some sleep kid, we'll figure out where we're goin' in the morning." She stared at him for a long while. The animal in him felt it was a threat, a surveying of any challengers he might have. The man in him thought it was curiosity, an observation of the enemy. Either way it was game tactics and he had to prove this moment of weakness had not changed anything. "Kid, are ya gonna stand there all night? Go to bed." He stood and walked to the bathroom. He bent at the sink and splashed water on his face. He listened for the gentle creak of the door and her retreating footsteps. But when he stepped back into the main room, she was sitting on the tumble of sheets, flipping channels on the TV. The lamp was off; the glow of the TV illuminated her wide eyes and thin limbs tangled amongst the sheets.

"If I paid for this shit, I can stay wherever I please," she said without turning to look at him.

"If I pay ya back, does it mean ya leave?" he asked, pulling his wallet out and tossing it on the floor in front of her. A growl resonated in her chest and her eyes flashed a vibrant rouge. Whether she meant to or not, the growl was audible and threatening; it's depth and level astounded Logan. He didn't think she would be able to strike fear into him. It wasn't petrifying but it definitely unnerved him.

"Test me, Logan." She hadn't turned to look at him. She tossed his wallet back up on the bed and stared, straight-backed and unblinking at the TV. Logan sank down on the bed and laid back, his body tense and buzzing. Her scent overpowered him and he slipped back into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5: Broken

"Get up. I found ya a new ride. Let's go," she barked. Logan, who'd been dozing, sat up. His dog tags clicked underneath his shirt. She threw his leather jacket to him. Then, she shouldered her bag and disappeared through the door. He reluctantly followed, grumbling to himself. She was angry this morning. He stepped into the early morning light and looked around. His truck was still there, sitting next to an old, rusted GTO. She tossed him the keys and flicked the ash of her newly lit cigarette casually. "Take it or leave it. Gotta progress slowly."

"What are ya gonna do with the truck?" he asked, grabbing his stuff from the bed and putting it in the trunk of the car.

"Leave it. Whaddya expect me to do with it? Give it to charity? Get in, I'm driving," she said. She jumped into the driver's seat. He frowned and stood there, his bag still clutched loosely over his shoulder. She climbed out of the car and frowned at him, the cigarette dangling between her lips. "Give me the keys, asshole."

"Ya gave 'em to me," he smirked. For once, and probably the only time, he had a little leverage over her. Even if it was something as stupid as the keys to the car she'd just stolen. But as quickly as it was given it was snatched away as that low growl began rumbling in her chest. "Kid, ya don't scare me as much as ya think ya do." The rumbling increased and he actually was a little scared of her. It was pathetic and shameful to admit, but she actually scared him. She clenched her fists and her eyes were glowing a ferocious shade of scarlet red. Her lips curled slightly and for the first time, Logan could've sworn he saw the glint of two fangs. Her entire body seemed to inflate and she was now audibly growling. But Logan held his ground.

"What are you?" he asked. It was hardly out of his mouth. He knew she heard it. The growl ceased immediately and she relaxed a little. Her lips twitched a little bit but her eyes remained flaringly bright. He tossed her the keys, relinquishing the slight power he had, and climbed into the passenger seat. He'd gotten the display he wanted. He'd seen what animal lay curled inside her and had no doubt that he could now push it out of her. He waited patiently, staring straight forward. He was apprehensive. She waited for several seconds before climbing into the driver's seat, starting the engine, and throwing the car into reverse. They wordlessly pulled out of the parking lot and set forward on the highway. Logan wondered if she would ever speak again when she sighed.

"What am I?" she whispered, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckle intensity. Again, she paused for several minutes. Logan's throat was dry. He wanted to smoke another cigar, his last one, but he didn't dare move for fear she wouldn't keep talking. She lit another cigarette but gripped it in her fingers instead of sucking greedily on it. "I don't know." Logan didn't say anything. He felt exactly the same way. He knew that he was animalistic, he knew that three Adamantium claws slipped from his knuckles when he was angry and he knew that he dreamed horror stories. There was a chance that she did the same thing. And the only way he was going to know was when she decided to tell him.

"My hair grows back almost as soon as I cut it," she whispered. Logan was sitting in yet another shitty hotel room, flipping channels with the TV on mute. She sat on the second bed, facing the opposite wall, her back to him. He continued flipping the channels, pretending that he didn't hear her. They hadn't said more than the few words they'd shared in the parking lot of the last hotel. She'd driven all day and didn't offer to stop for food or the bathroom until she silently pulled into this place. "No matter how much I eat, I don't get weight. If I take out an earring, I have a second to put another back in. I can go through eighty packs a day and never cough. I can drink 10 bottles of whiskey and never even get dizzy." She spoke slowly and carefully, as if she were practicing for a speech. He sniffed the air. She smelled like apprehension and there was a trace of fear. He'd traveled with her long enough to know that when she smelled fear, there was definitely something wrong.

"I don't know what I am," she stated. Her voice cracked and for a moment, he thought she would start crying. He clicked the TV off and slowly walked over to the bed she sat on. She was staring at the wall, dry eyed but he knew, if she wanted to, she could bring on the water works. He'd sat with a few first-time hookers and instead of spending a night working out his loneliness he'd spent a night comforting a scared, young girl. He knew how to treat a woman when she was upset, he just wasn't sure he was ready to deal with a wounded animal. They tended to be a little more aggressive. Cautiously, he sat on the corner of the bed farthest away from her. Letting her know he was there if she wanted him.

"When I…saw ya in the shadows, I thought maybe you were one of them," she whispered, more to herself than to him. His advanced hearing heard it though, and he furrowed his brow. Them? Who were they? But he didn't speak his question. "But they wouldn't a waited like ya did. When ya stepped into the light, you confirmed you were alone." What the hell was she talking about? It sounded like she knew who was friend or foe. That was for sure. She'd been running for a while, but she'd been avoiding someone longer. "I don't know what I am," she repeated. His mind was racing. That's why she wanted to avoid the city. That's why he'd found her in that dumpy little truck stop of a town. She wasn't just running away from family, she was fleeing for her life. As his mind was racing to connect the broken dots of his companion's past, she did something he would've never expected. She slid across the ugly paisley bedspread, brushed her shoulder against his, and rested her head ever so slightly on his arm.

He felt shocks run through him at her touch. His mind split in two as the animal within told him to take her while the man in him said to comfort her. He waited a few moments before he gently rested his large hand on her bony thigh, just above the knee. That contact would have to be enough to quell his inner beast because his human half overpowered his sudden desire to take a cold shower. But just barely. She may be old, maybe even older than him, but she still seemed to be a child. She reached slowly and took his paw into one of her own and ran her free fingers over the backs of his knuckles.

"What are you?" she asked. He could smell salty tears that spilled down her caramel colored cheeks. He thought a moment.

"A monster," he said, freeing his hand from hers. "I've done things I'm not proud of," he said with finality. He didn't want to talk about the broken fragments of his past that pulled at him in his sleep. She surprised him again by wrapping her arms around his broad chest and locked her fingers in a sideways hug. He carefully reached up and patted her wrist.

"There's somethin' I wanna tell ya," she said. Suddenly, he froze. His ears pricked at the rustling of bushes just outside the room. It wasn't the light steps of a rabbit or squirrel. It was something else, something bigger. A human being. She'd heard it to. "Logan," she whispered. He broke free of her hug and tensed, ready. He sniffed the air. It was heavy with the scent of metal. More metal than should've been in a faucet or a TV set. He walked over to the front door with strong steps and kicked it open. The lock snapped free and clattered to the floor. His claws weren't out but they felt them pushing on his joints, ready. His nails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists. Aya was frozen on the bed and he was glad for it. If someone was coming for him, he didn't want her to be involved.

He waited, listening for the sound again. There it was. With the accuracy of a striking snake, he reached into the bushes and collared a man. He was twitching and muttering to himself. His eyes were bloodshot and wide with fear. Logan threw him into the parking lot, cursing under his breath. He stomped into the bushes. Several syringes lay where the man had. He snorted at his misinterpretation of the smell. He huffed and stood in the doorway, watching her. Their gaze met and she stood to leave. His moment with him was over. She shouldered her bag and brushed past him. Her strut wasn't as angry and controlled as normal. He knew something was wrong but it would have to wait until tomorrow.

xxx

A knock at the door startled him. He wasn't asleep, although he should've been. How had he not heard the person coming? And who would be calling so late? As soon as he thought it, he knew the answer. It was Aya. But why had she knocked? Every other night in every other hotel, she'd burst in, using his loud dreaming as an excuse to spend the early hours of the morning in his room. But tonight she didn't have a card key. He stood up and answered the door. He yanked it open harder than he meant to. She jumped back out of his massive shadow. She looked small, frail.

"What?" he said rougher than he meant to. She looked down at her feet and didn't say anything. He waited and argued with himself over an apology. He'd decided after their crackhead scare that he wouldn't let his feelings affect him. He needed to steel himself over before he grew too attached to her and something happened. She was a child, dammit, and he wasn't like some of the sick bastards in this world.

"Can I stay in here tonight? I couldn't score a keycard from the front desk," she replied without looking up. The normal conviction in her voice was completely gone. She sounded tired. He was taken aback by her question. He opened the door wider and she slipped inside. She wordlessly dumped her stuff on the other bed and curled up on the pillows. Something was wrong.

"Some show about animal dominance," he grunted, turning the mute off. He strained his ears. Her heartbeat was fluttering fast like a hummingbird.

"Logan, I—"

"Shh," he hissed. Over the gentle thrum of her heartbeat he'd heard a rustling in the bushes. Every muscle in his body seized. Her scent switched and she noiselessly stood and walked over to him. She'd heard it too. He wanted to let the claws slip between his knuckles but he had more to worry about. What if her fighting didn't go beyond the cages? What if she was truly just a scared, inquisitive 16 year-old girl? Quick as lightning, he turned the TV and the lights off.

The rustling increased this time. There were multiple people; he was certain.

"Go ta the bathroom and get in the tub," he ordered in the quietest of whispers. "Get down as flat as ya can and stay there until I come get ya."

"Logan, I have somethin' to tell ya," she whispered.

"Not now, go," he hissed. His adamantium claws finally extended and he was almost giddy with anticipation. Well, as giddy as a nearly 200 year-old feral could be.

"Logan, please try ta let me explain," she whispered, true fear in her voice. He tore his eyes from the door. Her eyes were still. There were wide and doe-like but the color waves he'd seen dance across her iris had completely stopped moving. What could possibly be so terrifying that it did that to her? That it scared his strong, beautiful, wonderful, powerful Aya. Suddenly, the door burst open and Logan heard the familiar click of guns at the ready.

He grabbed her by her arm and threw her behind the bed. He turned and charged forward. Bullets whizzed past him as he sliced through a machine gun barrel and sliced the man's face on the rebound. They all had high-grade silencers on the ends of their barrels. The entire fight was muted, soundless as he sliced and gutted men. Grabbing the barrel of another gun and taking a few shots to the stomach, he jerked the man forward and pierced through his skull. With deadly accuracy, he turned the gun on the Kevlar-clad men and shot them, aiming low. He winced as his stomach healed and he tasted blood.

He emptied a round. Charging forward, he methodically opened bellies and slit throats, spraying blood everywhere. 15 bodies. His chest heaved and he stood, waiting, ready for the next onslaught. He wasn't afraid of the challenge or the bloodbath he'd just caused. There was something familiar, almost comforting about the attack. He couldn't help but feel though, that someone was usually with him in the battle.

He waited and waited. His heartbeat was loud and pounding on his eardrums.

"Don't play with yer food little brother," he heard in his head. The voice was familiar and distant. It wasn't a telepath. He didn't feel the familiar tickling of brain tissue like when someone sifted through his thoughts. It was a memory. "Don't forget yer dinner," it chuckled. Aya. He listened intently to be certain no one was left. The bodies were missing walkie-talkies. This was a secret thing. They weren't trying to call or alert anyone. They were to pick up and deliver, no questions asked. Logan snapped out of his sentinel mindset and turned to survey the damage. Blood was everywhere. Splattered on the walls, the TV, the bed, everything.

"Aya," he hissed, barely a breath off his lips. He didn't hear anything. He leapt over to the bed and crouched over her unconscious form. He grabbed her and felt his eyes burning. He flipped her over and gently slapped her face a couple of times. "Come on Aya, wake up. Come on!" he grunted. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open, glowing the most horrible shade of blood orange. A small clawed hand reached around his throat and punctured skin. Her mouth parted and she hissed, revealing her sharp, fang-like teeth.

He gripped her wrists hard, freeing his neck from her grasp. She was quick though, and twisted out of his hold, swinging angrily. She sunk her teeth deep into his chest and clawed at his arms. He held the struggling female as best he could. The longer she swung, the more power he felt in her blows. He looked at the girl as her curly hair loosened and fell from its bun, resembling a mane. Her muscles bulged and her thin frame looked like that of a toned and taunt MMA fighter.

He thought about stopping her but knew this attack had brought out the beast. She'd resorted to the feral part of herself for protection. She must've known these people and what they were capable of. He glanced back at the pile of corpses blocking the front door. He felt his shirt fall as she shredded through the thin material. Her cuts weren't deep, but they hurt. She swung and caught him hard across the face. He dropped her and moved swiftly to the bathroom. The cut was from ear to nose, slicing through his eyeball.

Suddenly, small claws sunk into his shoulder and she hissed as she reached around and bit his neck just around an important artery. A killing strike.

Logan lost it. He roared with anger and grabbed her by her shirt, throwing her over his shoulder. The shirt ripped and the loud splitting sound was followed by the thump and splintering of the mirror. She growled and attempted to straighten herself. He grabbed her again and with another roar, slammed her into the shower. Tiles clattered into the tub as dust puffed into the air from her body crushing a hole in the drywall. He stood, chest heaving in anger and waited for the dust to clear.

She was finally still, her head hanging limp on her shoulders. He looked at his splintered reflection in the mirror and back to the hole punched from her weight in the drywall. He grunted and grabbed her by her chest, extending his claws. She looked up at him, coming to, and growling angrily. Her small hands grabbed his thick wrist as it slid up to her neck. Why was he with her? Why was he following her? He didn't need her cash or her thieving ways. He could find another broad, one who actually did what she was supposed to. Especially when she spent countless nights with a single man. And this chick brought trouble with her. The stink of death in the other room was proof enough.

"Just have her, Jimmy. You were always bad at this. Have her and be done with it," the voice hissed. That familiar, nameless voice. Aya kicked him under the arm but his adamantium-laced bones probably broke her foot. He growled and slammed her head into the tile again. What was the matter with him? He just killed 15 men in cold blood. Why was killing her so difficult? She'd tried to kill him first. He had more reason to kill her than he did those men!

Tedious moments passed as he argued with his inner voices.

"Jimmy, ya remember that bitch in France? The one who liked to play with knives? I know ya do," the voice chuckled. "She knew 'bout us, so we agreed. She had to go. Wasn't hard fer me, but ya didn't wanna. I cleaned up the mess. Now it's yer turn," it coaxed. "Teach 'er a lesson she'll never forget." She took a strained swing, pressed her neck into his hand to reach his face. Again, he roared as she clawed clean across his eyes. His grip tightened as he blinked furiously to regain sight. Finally, a watery form appeared, then sharpened and focused. He growled deep within his chest.

Her eyes were wide. His grip tightened and she did what he wanted. He let her know who was boss, the dominant, the alpha. He told her that he meant business and that from here on in, it would be him making the decisions and the rules. He'd finally stood up for himself and he got what he wanted. She whimpered.

"That's it Jim," the voice cooed. He grunted as he lifted her from the crumbling tile and threw her onto the bed. She stayed still but watched him carefully. His shirt had already come off. She waited for him to undo his belt. Instead, he straddled her, pants on, and let his claws partially extend. He put his large hand on her soft cheek and pushed down, exposing the fair, smooth caramel skin of her neck. She screamed a blood-curdling sound as he drew three, perfectly symmetrical diagonal lines on her flesh. They were deep but they weren't meant to kill. They were meant to show her what he was. Alpha.

"Good Jimmy, now have her. Take her; she knows she's yours now." He looked at her, eyes closed as silent tears rolled down her cheeks. He could have her. But rape wasn't in him. It was in the person in his head though, as it grew angry. "Take her Jim! Yer dick was a waste of skin, ya piece of shit!" it yelled. He ignored it and climbed off her, stunned. Something had hit him. He'd never hurt a woman like that. Ever. But hard as he tried, no other woman was coming to memory. He'd slept with countless women since he'd woken up with no memory, but even now, he couldn't think of any of them. And every perfect night he'd spent with a whore, Aya was there in her place. The rainy night in Brooklyn. The snowy night in Chicago. The hot, humid one in Miami.

He sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. He could smell her salty tears and wished he wasn't the cause.

"Aw shit, the runt's found himself a mate," the voice sighed, all traces of anger gone. A mate? She sighed and wordlessly rolled over. He dared a glance down at her. She looked at him, her eyes a mystical violet. Neither one of them said anything, but they both knew they had to leave. He stood up with a heavy sigh, and grabbed his shirt. He threw her his leather bag and grabbed his own duffel. He grabbed her hand as she glanced down at the bodies littering the front door. He sighed and pulled her out the back. He always checked the exits and knew there was one near the ice machine with no surveillance camera.

"Walk slow," he muttered. She looked at him and sniffed quietly, tightly gripping her bag. He took her around the waist and steered her towards the car. He opened the door and she climbed in, tossing her bag in the backseat. He walked around to the other side and stepped in, gunning the engine and calmly pulling out of the parking lot. They sat in silence at a red light that seemingly took years to change when she suddenly coughed.

"Logan!" she coughed again. Blood spattered down her neck and shirt. He grabbed his tattered shirt from his lap and placed it under her chin to catch the ruby red mess. A surge of anger washed through him. How could he have hurt her? Why was he so stupid?

"Ya were showin' 'er who's boss, Jimmy, nothin' wrong with that." He knew he couldn't stop the car. He had to put as much distance between them and the bodies as mutantly possible. The light changed and he drove forward, careful to maintain his speed to avoid police cars or radar. She coughed again, more blood seeping out.

"Don't ya heal?" he exclaimed. What if she didn't recover? What if she _died? _She coughed hard; a gurgling sound.

"Yea, not fast," she managed. "I'll die first." He swallowed. He'd found her and lost her, just like the rest of his broken life. He looked down at her shirt. Her ribs were sticking up and out in odd places. A few had probably pierced her lungs and ripped through arteries. He held the shirt against her chin.

"Hang on," he grunted. But it was too late. Her mouth was slightly parted, the last of the blood pulled down by gravity to soak into his stained shirt. Her teeth looked to be back to normal. Her eyes were a glassy white, staring lifelessly at him. He clenched his jaw and turned to face the road.

"Look at yer kill Jim. Look." He ignored the voice. Mates. It was a once in a lifetime bond. Most people never found theirs. He'd thought he had a few times but the bond wasn't strong enough. The blind rage he'd had in the bathroom, marking her to show his dominance. That's what he'd needed. Now, she was his forever.


	6. Chapter 6: The Truth

-Few notes about this chapter. With permission from GypsyWitchBaby, I mentioned her character Lupa. Aya belongs to me but everything else is the wonderful creation of Marvel.

Logan sighed and blew smoke at the foggy window. He glanced back to the bed, and scratched his forehead with his thumb. What if she really wouldn't recover? What if Aya was truly dead? No. He forced the thought out of his head. She could heal. She wasn't dead.

He'd driven all through the night. A piece of property he owned just outside of Boston on a nice, quiet acre in the woods. He'd had a few women there but they weren't important. It'd been years since he'd been back. It never had really felt like home. And now that he had someone to share it, she was dead. It was his fault too.

He stubbed his cigar out on the window sill and replaced the end in his mouth. He walked over and sat down in the chair next to her bed. He'd covered her in multiple blankets, knowing all too well the icy chill that would've settled into her bones. Rigor never seemed to set in, which he hoped was a good sign. He slowly reached for her hand. He pulled it up to his cheek. His scratchy stubble would've probably pissed her off. She would've told him he needed to shave before he looked like a true wolverine.

_Wolverine, _he thought. _Sabertooth. It was the two of us. The man on the motorcycle in my dream. _

"Yea, Jim, that's me." The coy voice he'd adjusted to hearing seemed to have been summoned. He didn't know who the voice belonged to but he was certain it was Sabertooth. But who was Sabertooth? He scoffed and dropped her hand, throwing back the flimsy chair. He stomped his foot and held his forehead again. Why the fuck couldn't he remember anything? He paced angrily, feeling like Aya must've in that cage he'd found her in. Pure rage bubbled up inside him again at his stupidity and lack of control. "Kinda refreshin' Jim. Ya always were a wimp," the voice chuckled.

"Bastard," he hissed, not sure who he was talking to. Aya was dead and it was his fault. He sighed and picked up the chair. He couldn't wait around forever. He had to keep moving, keep searching for something, someone to help him remember. But he couldn't leave her. He loved her. The feeling hit him hard. He sat back down in the chair and reached for her hand again. Sabertooth would've laughed at him. He would've called him weak and stupid for not having her sooner. But he wasn't Sabertooth. He was the gentler of the two. The more humane one. The tame one. He couldn't explain how he knew it, he just did. The thought brought some comfort.

His advanced hearing caught something over the roar in his brain. She had rustled the sheets. The lack of central heating in the house confirmed that it was her movement. He walked back over and squeezed her bony fingers gently and looked to her face. She coughed suddenly, her chest jerking full of air so quickly it rose from the bed. She grunted and contorted as life snapped back into her muscles and bones. He dropped her hand as his mate seized and twitched. Finally she stopped and he approached the bed. Her teeth were chattering and her eyes were darting everywhere.

"Aya, Aya, it's me. Do you know who I am?" he asked. Too often he'd woken up from what would have been a hangover or suicide attempt and not known his own name for a few hours. "Aya. Look at me. Who am I?"

"Mate," she chattered. Her eyes were dancing a mystical violet. His heart swelled. It felt unused and old. "L—Logan."

"Good. Do ya remember wha' happened?" he asked. The subject would be a sensitive one but he needed to get it over with. He needed to find out as much as he could from her. He'd run this situation over and over in his head. What to ask, what to avoid. And too often he got a witty, snide remark from the mysterious voice within.

"I—d—died," she shivered. He tucked her in tighter, running a finger over her chin and neck. She reached up slowly, her arms stiff and awkward. He didn't dare move, unsure of what she was trying to do. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself into his chest. Her hemp bracelets scratched across his shoulders. Her icy skin shocked his. He pulled her close and held her, breathing in her honeysuckle smell. He slid carefully onto the bed and pulled a thick blanket over her. He felt beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead and upper lip but he didn't care. His baby was cold. "W—where are we—e?"

"My house outside Boston. Ya were gone for a good 10 hours," he said. He slowly reached up and stroked her hair. He didn't want to startle her, cause another relapse. He couldn't contain his inner animal the first time she snapped, what made him think he could the second time around?

"That's the fir—st time," she whispered. She nuzzled into his chest. Was that purring he heard? He smiled. She couldn't see his face. He felt her eyelashes as she slowly blinked. Then, her eyes closed. He didn't want to move and disturb her, but he needed answers.

"Aya, who were those men?" he asked. She sighed and he felt her body tense.

"Ya always knew how to pick 'em," the voice teased. He inwardly huffed. He couldn't set her off. _Shut up! _he he snapped. The voice chuckled. He could almost imagine a pair of gleaming white fangs peeking out of a mouth supported by a strong chin. But the rest of the face was a blur. The glint of the eyes unseen, the size of the sadistic man was still a mystery. She sighed. She was no longer freezing cold. He rubbed his arm over hers slowly. Her slender fingers gripped his chest in fear. Was it his touch? Or the impending explanation?

"When I tried to explain the firs' time, an' they weren't there, I really thought they'd left me alone," she started. Her voice was raspy from the short period of disuse. He thought about getting her a glass of water but thought better. If he moved, she might not get the courage to continue. "I don' know what to call myself, except different. I heal," she said as if he didn't already know. "Have for a long while too. I'm old Logan. Real old. An' I've lived through a lot o' shit. More shit than ya probably seen. But that's the firs' time I died.

"My family died in '54 of yella fever*. Killed a whole lotta people then, 'cept me. I was 13. So I did what I could to survive. Moved to a different city, tried to make a livin' bein' a maid, or a cook, stupid jobs here and there. It worked fer years too. Then, around '68, I was workin' late an' there was a robbery. I got shot an' someone saw. He asked me how long I'd been healin'. Of course I lied. But that din't stop 'im. He wanted to know everythin', so I told him some of the truth. He ate it up. Then, he took me with him. Destroyed my paper trail so it looked like I never existed. Ya see, he promised me all kinds o' stuff. An explanation, a job, a house, more people like me. Normally, I wouldn' a gone but I had ta, I'd been searchin' fer others fer so long!" she blurted. She was trying to justify her dangerous mistake. He could relate but didn't understand how. He'd never met a dangerous man that promised him asylum in an unforgiving world. Had he? "Then," her voice broke. He stroked her hair, trying hard not to let his physical yearning get the better of him right then. He wanted—needed her to continue. "He did stuff to me. A lotta crazy shit. I lost all my freedom so firs' chance I got, I escaped. Been runnin' ever since," she whispered. There was more. A small fire stoked up in his chest. Why was she holding back? Why did she feel so ashamed of her past that she couldn't share it with him, her mate? He stroked her hair a few more minutes before asking his multitude of questions.

"'54, as in 1954? Don't remember yella fever then," he said. He knew he was taking a risk by revealing his own age but he had to. They both knew the other was different and for days they'd tentatively avoided it. Now it was time to tell the truth. She shook her head.

"Not 1954. 1854. I told ya Logan, I'm old. The man approached me in 1968. I'd been doin' jus' fine before that. Never suspected, traveled a lot, it was great. Then, I slipped up. Biggest mistake o' my life too," she said, looking up at him. He slowly reached up and brushed his hand against her cheek. She sighed and closed her eyes at his touch. She didn't run though, like she suspected he would. "But the man, he promised he'd help me!"

"Ya don't have ta justify yerself. He said he'd help ya, and he took advantage of ya instead. That's not yer fault," he chided. "But I need ta know what he did to ya. There's a reason he's followin' ya all of a sudden. 'Snot like he randomly decided to reconnect lost ties." Aya sniffled softly. He felt her tears leaking through his shirt and wrapped his arms around her once again. He slowly rocked back and forth. This wasn't easy for either of them. She didn't like talking about her past, he could tell. But he needed to figure out why they were being hunted so they could end it once and for all. He unraveled her arms and gripped her shoulders. He brought himself to her eye level and stared deep into their mesmerizing depths. "I need ta know. I promise ya, no matter what it takes, I will make them stop. They won' ever hurt ya again. But I have to know what they did first." She sniffled once more and then was silent. Her eyes switched from that intense violet to a rich coffee brown.

"At first, it wasn' so bad. I got 3 square meals a day an' clean clothes. I din't have ta do much o' anything. Run, lift weights, exercise. Then, it changed. I guess they got the uh, control samples. I heard a few of 'em talkin' once an' that's what they called it. They weren't satisfied with my speed, my strength, my healin'. So they started probin' and cuttin'. They would slice me up an' as soon as it healed they'd do it again.

"No anesthesia, no drugs, nothin'. Not even bandages ta wipe up the blood. We did that for a while, then I couldn' take it anymore. I knew someone else had managed ta escape so I figured I could do it too**. I ran. Made it pretty far, ran into 'em a few times but ultimately, I been free ever since," she finished. He let go of her shoulders and rose from the bed. Everything about her story had the fuzzy edges like a dream from long ago. It all sounded so familiar. He raked a hand through his hair and sighed.

"Aw, come on Runt, ya gotta remember. That's _us! _She's talkin' 'bout us! We escaped!" the voice exclaimed. He turned suddenly and she started.

"Do ya know who escaped? Where ya were?" he asked her. She thought a moment.

"It must a been my friend there. They were doin' the same shit to her but she was older than me. Russian or somethin'. Cloudy eyes," his love replied. She stared over his shoulder as if remembering. Then, she rose from the bed. Her knees trembled and she pointed a shaky finger at him. He stared at her, wide-eyed. What the hell was she doing? Did she know something about him? His gut burned with anticipation.

"Jim, I think-," the voice started. It's thought was drowned out by a sudden shout from her.

"_You! You were there! That's why ya smelled so familiar! That's why I though' ya were one of them! Oh my God! Yer here fer me! Yer workin' fer them!" _she screamed. Her voice shook with fear and frustration. Her eyes glowed red then brown, red then brown. She was torn between the two emotions and he could plainly see. His heart pounded in his chest.

"Where was I? Aya, ya gotta believe me, I don' remember nothin'! Please, I'm not workin' fer nobody! Yer, yer ma mate! Why would I double-cross ya? I already had the chance ta kill ya! Aya, please," he begged. He dropped to his knees, then fell forward onto his hands. His eyes burned with tears. She knew something about his past. How could this girl know so much about him? How could they be so connected yet have only just met? His head seemed to weigh a thousand pounds as he looked up at her. Her arm was now at her side and silent tears were streaming down her face.

"Ya left me. But ya din't know. How can ya not remember?"

"I—I don't know. I've been travelin' fer eight years, tryin' ta remember somethin', anythin' from before now. And—I can't," his voice broke as he finally said aloud the thing he'd been running from for eight years. He looked up at her. She had to believe him. They sat in silence, locked in the other's gaze for what felt like an eternity. "I wouldn' a left ya there. If I'd a known, I woulda never left ya there," he whispered. She bent down and placed a hand on his back. She grabbed his chin and pulled him into a soft kiss.

"I know. I—I believe ya." She kissed him again. The floor felt like it was melting away. She was so strong, so sweet and so soft. He wanted to stay lip-locked forever but she pulled away. "Lupa. Her name was Lupa. An' before she made it out, she told me about a guy she met," she chuckled at the memory. "How could ya meet a guy in a place like that? But she had. An' he promised to take 'er away."

"Come on, Jim! She's handin' it ta ya!" the voice shouted.

"Lupa," he whispered. He closed his eyes. A beautiful, sad face with long scars on her cheeks. Cloudy, silver eyes. "Like the moon." Aya dropped to her knees in front of him and held his face. His heart was pounding in his chest. She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. He could imagine Lupa in the woods, spending endless hours with him in a house. Had she been his woman? No, but he had wished she was. But someone else had claimed her. But who? He opened his eyes. A small smile was on Aya's lips.

"Do ya remember 'er?"

"Yes."

"Ya loved 'er, din't ya?" she asked. He could hear the slight pain in her voice.

"Yes. But I couldn' have 'er. She belonged ta someone else. She was 'is mate, not mine," he admitted bitterly. Aya stroked his cheeks again as another tear escaped.

"Her mate, Logan, his name was Victor."

*In 1853, an outbreak of yellow fever in New Orleans killed 8,100 people. Although I haven't made references to Aya's true home, she was at least living in New Orleans at the time of the outbreak. This is the link for my information if you want to read more (.?t=7147)

**Check out _The Feral _and its sequel, _The Dreaming Animal _by GypsyWitchBaby. The references to Aya's captive friend are her character, Lupa.


	7. Chapter 7: A Friend

-This update took me sooo long and I am sooo sorry! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint though! As usual, no one but Aya is mine! Reviewer thanks are at the bottom! Enjoy!

He threw himself backwards. Suddenly, the face he'd imagined earlier came into cruel, sharp focus for a brief moment. The sadistic smile, the gleam of white fangs peeking out, the eyes twinkling with the rage and cruelness of an uncontrolled beast. He could almost hear the vocal chords vibrating in the muscular throat of his brother. He just _knew _this wild…beast was his brother. Then, the face slipped away. He tried to force the image forward; tried to recall each bittersweet memory before it faded back into the recesses of his jumbled mind but it was too late. It was gone. He looked back up at Aya, wide-eyed. What felt like terror filled him and he couldn't bear to look at her. He turned away, standing up and grabbing his leather jacket. She sobbed loudly.

"Wait! Logan, please wait!" she yelled as his hand closed tightly around the doorknob. He froze, head bowed in anger and fear. She choked out a final sob before falling silent behind him. In a move neither one of them quite expected, her arms were tightly around his waist, squeezing. She sobbed uncontrollably into his back. He stayed still, mentally kicking himself for upsetting her yet again. But he felt that he deserved this moment a little more than she did. "Please tell me," she whispered, breaking through his personal tug-of-war. "Please tell me why ya can't remember." His heart skipped a beat. He could feel her own thrumming against her ribcage. She'd known. All this time. She'd known that he was a wandering soul, lost to the hollow dreams and memories that haunted him. How could she know? He'd made sure not to let it slip. It was a weakness, and now it was one they both shared. He sighed and turned slowly. She threw herself backward, creating space between them. He wondered for a second if she felt threatened by his shift. He could see apprehension dancing in her gray eyes.

"I just can't," he admitted bitterly. He dragged himself to the bed and fell down onto it. She gracefully curled her legs underneath her in front of him. She laid her head on his lap and stroked his numb fingers. "I woke up one day, and jus' didn't remember. I knew ma name, and that I was differen', but that was it. And these." He extended his claws. She jumped slightly at the sound of them sliding out of his skin. She ran her fingers over the tip, the blade, the back. "These weren't always like this. But I can't remember what they were before."

"Victor was your brother, Logan," she whispered, avoiding his gaze.

"I know. I don' know how, I just do." She suddenly reached up and kissed him. It was long and hard. Her hands grabbed his jaw, curling around his ears and sliding through his hair. He kissed her back, passion coursing through his veins in one hot moment. She pulled away, breathless.

"Tha's what the dreams are abou', isn't it? Wars and him." God damn, she was inquisitive.

"Yea." She nuzzled her nose against his and playfully bit his bottom lip. He growled at her and threw her down on the bed. She shrieked with joy and beat on his broad chest to break free. The moment was broken. The tension was gone for now. He sighed with relief. Her eyes danced a pleasant shade of pink. He'd never seen that one before. But then again, they'd never teased and played with each other before. She craned up and kissed him again, gently.

"What are ya thinkin' about?"

"What I have ta do," he said. He knew he had to find each and every person threatening her, his mate, and destroy them.

"Ya mean, what _we_ have ta do. I'm not lettin' ya risk yer life fer me," she said firmly. He opened his mouth to protest but knew it was futile. His mate had spoken, and he listened. He climbed off her and stood up, ripping off his jacket. Fuck, he wanted her. He clenched his jaw and strode briskly to the door. "What's wrong?" she asked, panicked.

"I'm hungry," he lied. Well, partially lied. He was hungry but not for food. He walked to the kitchen. The house was a single story. It was on a decent size of land, and even had a chicken coop a few hundred yards away. They'd make a living here for a little while, at least until he could figure out the next step to finding them. He reached into the pantry and began to make a sandwich. "Ya want somethin' babe?" he called. The nickname had slipped but when she called back, he assumed it was alright. He pulled out more bread. "How did ya know I don' remember?" he asked as she joined him. She sat down and was quiet for several minutes. He turned around to see a cigarette dangling between her lips, smoke curling from it lazily. "Babe?"

"The night we fought, I knew. I told ya I could hear ya in the other room, I wasn' lyin'. Yer loud as shit in yer sleep. Now, we need to figure out how we're goin' to go abou' huntin' the people huntin' me," she said flatly. He sat down across from her, sliding a sandwich. She grabbed it and tore into it. Dying did make him hungry. He felt stupid for not thinking of it earlier.

"We go to New Jersey," he said suddenly. "There's a guy I know there. He'll help us find somethin'." She raised an eyebrow at him. "I just know that's where we're goin'."

"Well, well, well! If it isn't the _Wolverine!_" a man bursting out of his A-shirt playfully punched the Wolverine's stomach in greeting. Logan took his hand and pulled him into an awkward hug. "And who is this fine, young lady?" he asked, leaning on the doorframe and running his eyes up and down Aya. Logan growled angrily, his lip curling into an angry snarl. The man chuckled, flashing a mouthful of gleaming pearly whites and shook his head. He slipped back behind the bar and grabbed a rag, wiping down the counter.

"Can I have some whiskey?" Aya asked. Logan smiled. She pulled another cigarette from the recesses of her baggy sweater and lit it, taking a long drag. Damn, she was sexy. He motioned for two glasses. He was apprehensive about this. He wasn't sure she should be here, finding out with him, but she had demanded it. He didn't want to put her in danger but she seemed drawn to it, almost like he was.

"So what are you doin' here Logan?" the man asked, his tone suddenly dark, accusing. Logan glanced at her. Her eyes flashed a bright red and she gripped her glass with white-knuckled intensity. _Easy, _he thought, hoping his scent switched with it. Sure enough, her grip relaxed and he could feel her anger dull the slightest.

"I need information," he replied bluntly. "On one of her friends."

"And who is that?"

"His name is William Stryker," Aya broke in, her voice strong. Logan clenched his jaw. The name sent inexplicable shivers through him. The beast within seemed to lift his head at the sound of the name, as if a noise had been made in the quiet jungle. He could smell fear in the dark bar. So the name bothered everyone. The man put down the bottle of whiskey after their glasses were full again with a sudden _plunk!_

"Don't know that name," he said heavily.

"Cage*!" Logan suddenly roared. He stood up, unsheathed his claws and swung at the giant of a man. He grazed Cage's arm, but wasn't fast enough, as Cage punched him hard in the jaw. He quickly shook off the blow and swung, catching Cage's nose. Before either one was aware, they were caught up, rolling across the floor, knocking over bottles and stools. He could hear the growls emanating from his mate's chest but he couldn't force himself to stop. He needed to tear into him, to show this man he meant business. And he did. He stabbed deep, penetrating the skin he just _knew _was thick and dense. The man roared in rage and pain, throwing Logan to his feet and standing up himself. They paced in a slow circle. A dance of the alpha males.

"Jim, I din't think ya had it in ya to take on Cage!" the voice suddenly rang out in his mind. He roared in frustration at its sudden presence and charged forward, determined to rip through Cage's throat. He was blinded by rage, and suddenly he was tackled to the floor. Honeysuckle filled his nostrils and his muscles suddenly went lucid. He couldn't quite see who was in front of him though, for the sadistic smile was back, grinning at his apparent anger. "Ya usually lost whenever we brawled with Cage! Kick his ass runt!" the voice chuckled. He knew it belonged to Victor. And he hated him.

"Logan! Logan! It's me!" Aya shouted. She growled and let out a threatening roar. Logan looked up to see his mate on top of him. "We need him. Let 'im give us what we want, then ya can kill 'im!" She climbed off him without another word and walked out of sight. He stood, snarling at her in annoyance, and turned towards Cage. He was sweating profusely and holding a rag to his bleeding arm. Logan knew it would heal pretty soon, not as fast as him but fast enough. "Mr. Cage, we had a long few days and would really appreciate any info ya could give us."

"Luke, call me Luke," the man said, sitting down on a barstool and throwing his rag across the bar. "You usually weren't the one fightin' me Logan. It was usually Victor."

"Then I owed ya one." Luke chuckled and sighed. "Whaddya know 'bout Stryker?"

"I know he's been lookin' fer all the old team fer a while now. Tryin' to get everyone together fer somethin' big," Luke admitted. He walked over and locked the door, flipping the open sign to close. "Sit down." Logan reluctantly took a seat a little farther down the bar and drained his glass. Cigarette smoke filled his nose and he could smell the anxiety on Aya.

"Who's the 'old team?'"

"What do you mean who? Logan, you, Vic, Dukes! What the hell is wrong with you?" Luke scoffed.

"Dukes! I remember Dukes! Lupa mentioned him the last few times I saw her!" Aya hissed in his ear. "Where's Zero?" she asked Luke. Logan frowned at her in confusion. Her eyes were an inquisitive green, quickly flaring into a hot orange.

"Dead as far as I know," Luke shrugged. He poured himself a shot and threw it back. "That was Victor's doing."

"Wha's this thing he's gettin' everybody together fer?" Logan growled.

"I don't know. But I know they're lookin' for someone. Logan, he's going to be tracking you pretty soon. If you're not interested, you better run," Luke warned. Logan's throat went dry. It was hard to strike fear in him but he was chilled by Luke's warning. Aya's hand fell across his shoulder.

"Ya know what that means," he said. He clenched his jaw tightly, steeled his face against any emotion other than the blind rage he was feeling. The beast within him roared and ravaged, dying to be free. "I'm not goin' anywhere."

"Yer a lot tougher than I remember, runt," the voice purred in jest.

"It's you, isn't it?" Luke suddenly stood. Logan's muscles tensed and he stared intently at Luke. He could smell the mixed emotions on him, could feel his stance go from relaxed to threatening. "Well come on, I know somewhere you can go for a while. At least until you figure out how you're taking him down." Luke walked behind the bar and held the swinging door to the kitchen open for them. Logan reluctantly went, Aya close behind him. He didn't want to trust Cage but he knew he could. He was a friend from long ago, the time before he couldn't remember. "Oh, these belong to you. She's still runnin', I kept her up when you stopped comin' around." Luke threw a set of keys at Logan. He caught them and frowned. He followed Luke through the small empty kitchen, to the alley behind the bar. They walked down the alley to the back lot where a garage stood. Logan immediately recognized the beautiful Chevy sitting in front of it. A classic 70s car that was synomous with Luke.

"Still runnin' huh?" he chuckled, despite himself. Luke ran his hand along the door and patted the trunk as he walked to the garage door. He undid the padlock and lifted the door. A swell of pride filled Logan as he laid eyes on the gorgeous motorcycle sitting in the garage, gleaming in chrome and leather. He could smell the hide pulled tight across the street, could feel the powerful engine under him, the handles in his grip. "Still runnin'," he mumbled.

"Damn, tha's a nice hog!" Aya exclaimed. She stamped out her cigarette and walked forward, examining the engine and its details.

"What do you know about bikes little lady?" Luke chuckled.

"A lot more 'an ya think!" she retorted. Logan allowed himself a sideways grin. He put his hands on his hip and watched his two ladies exchanging a greeting. The motorcycle from his dream, and his mate. He couldn't believe he'd gained so much in such a little time. Cage wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

"Where do you find them, man?" he laughed. Logan chuckled. "Come on, follow behind me, I'll take you to the place." Luke climbed into his car, and Logan took a breath before climbing onto the bike. Aya straddled behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around him and resting her head on his back. He revved the engine and pulled out of the lot, following the long cab of the Chevy in front of him. Hatred for Stryker broke through his thoughts. No one was going to take this from him again. No one.

_*Luke Cage was a Marvel character introduced when vigilante justice was popular, around the 70s. He's an awesome character and I thought he should make a little cameo. Search him on for more info!_

Thanks to...

**GypsyWitchBaby**- thanks sooo much for the shoutout in your last chapter of _The Dreaming Animal_! I appreciate it more thank you could imagine!

**PheonixRebornFromTheAshes**- I hope this chapter is up to your standards! Thanks for reading!

**Royal shadow1**- I'm glad you like it! I'm trying to keep the same style going so lemme know if this does it!

**AreYouSirius-questionmark**- I totally hope the last chapter made up for what happened to her! And I hope it kept you reading!

**RKF22**- I'm so glad you liked it!

**microcheese**- I didn't mention last time I did shoutouts, I'm sorry! But I hope you like this chapter! I like Aya too! Duh! lol

**needtowrite**- Your comment made me smile! Don't forget to keep reviewing!

**PhantomProducer**, **Kai-Qui, misswatson97**, **XxXSkullCookieXxXSlipknot**, **daddysgirl1211**, **Kvaes Varetnai**, **Royal shadow1**, **QueenOfAwesomness**, **Hyper1Emo0**, **Lorna Roxen**, **Vendetta M.**, **Joker-Girl-Kelly**, **microcheese**, **AreYouSirius-questionmark**, **RKF22**, **PrincessRachW**, and **needtowrite** for the Story Alert/Favorite Story adds! I appreciate you all so much!

Reviews are greatly appreciated everyone! And of course, don't forget to check out **GypsyWitchBaby**'s stories!


	8. Chapter 8: Waiting

***WARNING*** This chapter contains a PG-13 rated sex scene. For those of you who do not wish to read it, there is a line marking the end of the chapter. I don't own Logan, Luke or anything pertaining to Marvel but Aya is my OC! Thanks are at the bottom too!

Aya growled threatening at him. She was pissed; had been for the past week and a half. He could understand why though. It was hard to cage an animal and not expect a lashing out in return. He turned to look at her. She lit the cigarette dangling in her hips, sucked greedily on it, and walked up to him. She seductively wrapped an arm around him before slicing his cheek with her razor sharp nails. He saw a flash of the deepest blood red he'd ever seen as she turned her back and disappeared into her bedroom. He was getting tired of her bullshit but couldn't help feel the same heated tension that cabin fever brought on.

They'd been hiding out in a cabin owned by Dukes, according to Luke. He'd left in Luke's care while he was helping Stryker "tie up a few loose ends" from a failed project. The thought had been making Logan's stomach churn. He had remembered Dukes after one night playing cards with Luke. The memory stuck him like a slap across the face and he could see the rather dim, giant of a man with a machine gun across his back and his fist in the barrel of a tank. He had liked Dukes, at least as much as he could like someone so stupid, and didn't want to have to kill him. He chewed thoughtfully on the end of his cigar and turned out the window.

"Yo!" Aya shouted from behind the closed door. "I'm sick a sittin' here like a damn pigeon! Let's go kick some ass!" He rolled his eyes and ignored her. "I'm talkin' ta ya!" She burst through the door and rammed him with her shoulder, causing him to stumble into the window. "Yer darlin' baby of a bike is gonna get a makeover if we don' leave soon!"

"Stop it. Shut up and go sit in yer room like a good little bitch," he growled without hesitation. Her eyes flashed that angry red again and for a moment they sized each other up, a dance between the alpha male and female. Finally, she broke and left him again, but not before snarling and bearing her fang-like teeth. He growled back and stormed into the kitchen. He needed a hard drink. Luke was sitting at the table, head in his hands, pouring himself over a map of the area. "What are ya doin'?"

"Trying to figure out where Stryker's stronghold is. If we can find that, we can get in and do the deed," Cage replied, slapping his hand against the map. Logan dropped a second glass in front of him and poured some alcohol. They both drank it down. Logan sat down and snatched the map from him. Memories flooded across his mind.

"It's here," he said curtly, dropping his finger onto a remote area deep within a forest. "It used ta be here but after Lupa an' Vic left, they moved it to here." Luke didn't question the sureness in Logan's voice. "I'll get Lupa, she's been itchin' fer a fight." He stood up.

"Logan wait," Cage muttered. Logan sat back down and waited for his friend to continue. "Do you really think it's a good idea bringing her into all this? I mean, what if the emotions are too much for her? What if she has a breakdown in the middle of it?"

"Whaddya propose, leavin' 'er behind? It ain't gonna happen. She's headstrong Luke, but she ain't stupid. Ain't no excuse gonna keep 'er here any longer," he replied. "An' frankly, I know she _can_ handle it. She's stronger than ya think."

"I know she's strong. But I'm also worried about you. You keep having these onslaughts of memory. What if you have some there? What if they freeze you up like they've been doing all week?"

"Cage, yer crossin' the line," he said tightly. Luke threw his hands up in apology and shook his head. "We'll be fine."

"I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just trying to make sure this operation goes smoothly." He stood up and left Logan alone to his thoughts. Logan sighed and looked down at his empty glass, watching a drop of whiskey slide down and pool on the white wooden table. He could smell her from the kitchen, could feel the attitude and anger pulsing through her. He almost missed her fiery, headstrong side. He'd only seen the vulnerable, almost weak side of her the past few days as he slowly regained bits and scraps of memory. He could smell the cigarette smoke lingering in the air in her room. He wished suddenly that her body was beneath his, that he was with her and having her. He slammed his fist angrily on the table. Damn his thoughts! He shouldn't be thinking of her like that.

"Why not, ya pussy? She's yers, ain't she?" Victor's voice purred in his ear. God, if Logan saw him tomorrow when they moved in on the base, he was certain he would permanently silence him. Luke had been worrying about their lack of weapons but Logan felt like he might just explode if he saw Victor. And he knew his mate was dying for some action herself. He poured himself another drink when Aya sauntered him, seething with anger. Her eyes however, betrayed a sense of calm, albeit frail and easily broken.

"I can smell ya from ma room," she said bluntly. She took his glass and downed the burning liquid. "Let's go." She ran her finger across his shoulder and walked back out of the room, playfully swinging her hips. He could still smell the anger on her but he knew it was taking a backseat for now. He stood up, nearly knocking over the chair in pursuit of her. When he reached her bedroom, she was already lying on the bed, waiting for him. He could hear a dull growl emanating from her chest. He audibly snarled and shut the door.

She tugged her shirt over her head. He ran his eyes over her thin frame: her ribs slightly protruding, the dip of her stomach, the slight pressing of her hip bones against her skin. He pulled his shirt off and climbed onto the bed, but slowly. He knew that this was an intricate dance and one false move would send her into a fit of rage. He moved to grab her hips when a snarl escaped her lips. _Watch it! _he scolded himself.

"God, everythin' with ya has ta be a ritual, just take 'er, ya moron!" Victor grumbled. Logan huffed out loud. Aya's eyes narrowed. He didn't mean to make the noise at her but he couldn't explain that. She let him take the lead. He crawled up and unbuttoned the jeans that were too big for her small waist. He pulled them off, growling softly the whole time. Then, he slid her underwear off and undid her bra. His eyes ran over her bare breasts and a thrill of heat passed through him. He took off his own jeans and boxers and straddled her. She flattened her arms next to her ears, like she'd done in the hotel when he claimed her. That felt so long ago. He had claimed her as his and now he would _have _her as his. He plunged into her, rocking gently as she moaned softly. As his rocking grew faster, she thrust her hips up to meet him in one motion. Her moans grew into growls until she was nearly howling with pleasure. Her hands gripped the pillows next to her head as she climaxed. He too finished and quickly rolled off, out of breath. She rolled over to face him. It was her turn to take charge. She reached forward and bit his lip, growling softly. Then, she released him and began licking and nuzzling his neck, playfully biting him in between licks. She shoved him so he was lying flat on his back. She licked and nipped her way down to his belly button. He stopped her as she dipped below his belly button. She growled and gripped his thighs with her claws. He growled louder, bigger and she silently rolled off, defeated.

He pulled her closer to him until her head was lying on his chest. He pulled the blanket from underneath them and tucked her in. Within minutes, she was asleep and Logan was left to his thoughts.

Thanks to:

**PheonixRebornFromTheAshes- **I'm glad you liked the last one, I hope this one didn't disappoint!

**Kaycee-x John Cenaholic- **Thanks I'm trying to update about once every 2 weeks or so. Glad you like it!

**AreYouSirius-questionmark- **You can't have Logan without his bike! :)

**GypsyWitchBaby- **A meeting is sooo possible, especially the way the story's going! I've already got a few ideas!

Also thanks to: **, Mizeri, kmcracerx, **and** Kaycee-x John Cenaholic **for (and everyone who's previously added; it's a lot to list!) adding this story to their Story/Favorite Alerts! It's much appreciated!


	9. Chapter 9: Return

-Ok, you know the drill, Aya's mine but everyone else belongs to Stan Lee & Marvel! How I wish they were mine! And I'm sorry this chapter took so long, it was particularly difficult to write!

He stayed crouched, surveying the outer barbed-wired wall of Stryker's base. Aya was a few clicks away, their extraordinary hearing being their only means of communication. Cage stood only a few yards away, within eyesight. Logan had though long and hard about their assault last night while Aya slept soundly on his chest. They were ready for this. And even if they weren't, all of them were dying to tear down a few of Stryker's men for their own personal revenge. Cage motioned that it was his turn to move and Logan growled the signal to Aya.

Cage charged the wall, jumping and catching on the barbed wire at the top. He aptly leaped over the large coils and dropped to the other side soundlessly. Logan waited to hear the thumping contact of fist on flesh but heard nothing. There were no guards on the other side. What was Stryker playing at? Logan moved, knowing Aya was doing the same thing. He too leaped the wall and soundlessly gripped the barbed wire, stepping over the large coils and sliding down the wall. There was another inner wall, this one was lined with guards. Mutants, Logan was sure. For a man who hated all of mutant kind, Stryker sure kept a lot of them around. Aya crept up behind Cage and joined them. She motioned which guards each of them would take out. Logan's blood grew hot with rage at what they planned to do to his beloved mate. He unsheathed his claws and crept away from his team, ready to destroy something. Or someone.

The first guard. He was a tiny Asian man, with a machine gun. Logan came up behind him and slit his throat, carefully placing his body along the wall. He crept down to the next man, a stocky white guy with a crew cut. This time he wasn't so lucky. The man took notice and suddenly belched a stream of flames in Logan's direction. His plaid shirt caught fire and he ripped it off, leaving him in a slightly scorched undershirt. This time he was ready as the man belched again. Logan shoved his fist into the man's open mouth, slicing him through the back of the head. The man's limp body fell from the wall with a sickening thump. Suddenly, an alarm sounded.

"Great job Runt, ya set off the alarm. Ya were always bad at this sneakin' shit," Victor growled. Logan huffed, growling for Aya. She responded, and he could sense the anger in her response.

"Cage!" Logan howled, running forward as a man open fired on him. A bullet grazed his arm but he didn't stop charging, roaring as he cut the man down. He yelled for Cage again, finally seeing the giant of a man just down the wall, battling a few guards on his own. Logan sliced another man across the throat in a running leap, reaching Cage. "We have to find Aya."

"I know," Cage replied, grabbing a man and tossing him onto the barbed-wire fence a few feet away. They pushed and cut the last of the guards down.

"She's this way," Logan muttered. Her feral scent burned his nostrils. He knew she was reverting to her animalistic side; the same side that had pushed him over the edge. He just hoped he could call her back to sanity once this was all over. He and Cage ran down the wall, bodies ready for the next onslaught of guards. Aya was finishing with a small man. She pulled her face from his throat, she'd ripped it out with her teeth. Logan started at his mate. Her pupils were dilated and her fangs glistened with blood from her latest kill. He wasn't sure she'd even understand him. "Aya, we have to go." He reached his hand to her. She growled threateningly and snapped her bloody jaws at him. "Aya," he said, growling softly as he said it. Her pupils shrank and she dropped the bloody man. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.

"Who set off the alarm?" she grumbled. There she was. Logan inwardly sighed, thankful she'd been able to maintain control. "We need ta go. Now." Cage nodded and the three of them jumped from the outer wall, landing in crouches on the grass. They charged the nearest door, an armored one with two gunmen at either side. Cage and Logan took them out. Logan could almost remember working as a team, killing and murdering. It made him sick to his stomach but he couldn't acknowledge the feelings now. He had to keep going. He had to destroy the ones who wanted his Aya back so badly. Suddenly, she screamed. He turned towards her. A bullet wound bled profusely from her abdomen. She leaped onto the man who'd shot her and broke his neck in a seamless gesture. His limp body fell to the ground and Aya took his gun, shooting the stunned guard still remaining. She spit on their bodies. Logan felt the familiar animal urges he couldn't fight last night. Why was she so hot?

"Whadder ya starin' at?" she growled. He shook his head. Cage looked between the two of them and rolled his eyes. In a strong, swift swing, he punched the door, bending the metal structure. He punched it again and it fell from its hinges in a loud clang. "Way ta be quiet," Aya scoffed. Cage swung his mighty fist but Logan caught the blow in the shoulder.

"Knock it off," he ordered. A growl emanated from Aya as they stared each other down. "We have ta go." He led the three of them into the fortress. The alarm was still blaring and Logan wished more than anything he had the power of invisibility.

"Ya never had the stomach fer killin'," Victor growled in his ear. He didn't retort because he knew it was true. The wars he dreamed about were always him fighting and murdering. He awoke from them in a cold sweat and sick to his stomach. They crept as silently as they could along the inner wall, coming to another door. Logan took care of this one, cutting the hinges with his claws and punching it down. They entered the hallway, a quiet one. No alarms were ringing; no guards were waiting for them. Had they walked into a trap? Aya gave a small yelp.

"I know where we are," she whispered, fear evident. Logan took her hand and squeezed it firmly.

"Lead the way," Cage murmured. She crept forward on tiptoes, guiding them down the hallways and deeper into danger. Finally, they reached a room, long, with an observation deck over a large tank. Cords and tubes were connected to the tank.

"Logan," Aya whispered. But he barely heard her. He knew this room, this place, that tank. He'd been in it. Memories flooded his mind as he saw and felt the piercing needles and boiling hot adamantium bond with his bones. Cage's hand on his shoulder pulled him from the painful reverie. "Logan, I know this room. Come on, this way," his mate whispered. They followed her down a small hallway to another room, similar to the one they'd just vacated. Instead of a tank in the center however, there was a surgical table with several carts full of medical equipment surrounding it. He felt a shudder pass through her.

"This is it, isn't it?" he asked. She nodded, silent tears traveling down her cheeks. She walked over to the surgical table and touched the stainless steel. Suddenly, footsteps on the observation deck made them pause. Logan let go of Aya and unsheathed his claws. Cage's muscles went taunt and he stood, ready for action. Aya went up on her toes and waited. They were ready for anything.

"My, my, my, I didn't expect to see you back so soon, Aya."

Ok, well almost anything.

Thanks to:

**Kai-Qui, Carlypso, lilybelle101, invalid3, xXMelloxRebekahXx, , Mizeri, **and **kmcracerx **for adding this to Story Alerts/Favorites!

**PheonixRebornFromTheAshes- **I'm glad you liked the flashback! I hope this chapter holds up too!

**Carlypso- **I'm glad you liked it! Keep R&R!

**Gypsywitchbaby- **As usual, thanks so much for the inspiration and letting me borrow Lupa! I'm definitely going to try and incorporate a reunion! Maybe on Prince Edwards Island?

Read _The Feral _and _The Dreaming Animal _by Gypsywitchbaby! And don't forget to review me too! Please & thank you!


	10. Chapter 10: Revelations

**I do not own X-Men character but Aya is my OC!**

Aya made an inhuman sound. He could feel the overwhelming emotions his mate was experiencing and grew dizzy with his own. He gripped her hand tighter. _I'm here, _he thought. Inexplicably, he knew the man to be Stryker. And he knew, just _knew, _Stryker was responsible for the living hell he'd endured for all these years. Stryker gave a coy smile and began pacing slowly. His arrogant air made the beast within very, very put out.

"So, my two favorite ferals found each other at last. We knew it was only a matter of time," he said, clasping his hands behind his back and looked at the floor. "Of course, we'd expected Lupa an Victor but we were pleasantly surprised when the two of you showed a connection. It's really quite amazing. Feral love, mating," he continued. "We've found it in the wild; bald eagles, wolves, but ferals seem to be the only humans capable of such a bond. But then again, you aren't really human, are you?" he stopped pacing and approached the rail, still smiling at them. Logan could hear the guns of the guards clicking, locking onto the targets that had remained so elusive for the past month.

"Whaddya want with 'er, Stryker?" he asked, gripping his mate's hand harder still. He clenched his jaw. No matter the answer, he would protect her. Nothing would come between them again. Nothing.

"It's not her I'm after," he smiled. Logan frowned. What? His testing was finished.

"I told ya, when ya gave me these, get the hell outta my way," Logan suddenly blurted, quoting himself. He loved that girl, though he couldn't recall her name. He flashed his claws. The guards' guns locked onto him at once.

"Why?" Aya suddenly said. "Then why can't ya just leave us be? We did our part fer our country, that should be enough." Her eyes flashed a brilliant shade of crimson. Logan turned to look past her at Cage, still standing there, absorbing what they were.

"To be honest, I'm after none of you," Stryker said, looking down at his fingernails idly. Logan's mind was racing. If he didn't want Aya and he didn't want him or even Cage, what the hell did he want? The beast was pacing closer than ever to the surface now, growling and pawing at the ground.

"Mates Jim, somethin' 'bout 'em is important to 'im," Victor suddenly hissed. Then, like a slap in the face, he knew. He pulled Aya behind him.

"Never," he growled at Stryker. "Come on! Shoot me!" he taunted the guards now. He could smell their fear, their apprehension as they witnessed Weapon X's fury. Stryker motioned for a few of them to move forward. In one swift motion, a head rolled by the others. They immediately retreated.

"So, you've figured out why you and your mate, Victor and Lupa are so important to me?" he asked calmly. "I did my testing on their healing capabilities. I've seen what the you and Victor could do. Imagine it Logan," Stryker said. But he couldn't take it anymore. The thought blinded him to all reason. His insides burned and his blood builed with the intensity of the sun. He growled at Aya, who immediately understood. Hissing, she turned to the opposite side, claws and fangs sharpened. Cage understood and removed the guns he'd been packing and saving for this exact moment. They all stood back to back, waiting to pounce their prey. "I was really hoping we could avoid all this," Stryker sighed. "Get them," he ordered the guards. And the fighting commenced. Logan unleashed the beast within. Slice, slice, blood spurted all over his face, arms, torso. He scissor-chopped a man across the ribs then grabbed his gun and opened fire. Cage was punching, shooting and kicking his way through the 14, 15, 16 guards. Aya tore, bit and ripped through jugulars, arteries and veins. The squelching and screaming was enough to make Logan inwardly cringe but not enough for him to stop. Victor laughed triumphantly at his brother's predator. Finally, Logan's eyes locked on his true target.

He leapt over bodies and took the metal staircase three at a time. He roared as he reached the man now cowering in fear. He grabbed him by the his shirt and closed his blades in on his throat.

"Gimme one good reason," he hissed, sounding demonic even to his own ears. Stryker reeked of fear and urine.

"We wouldn't harm her once we got what we wanted. We'd just need _it!" _he cried. Logan grunted and pressed each tip a little closer. A spot of blood appeared and trickled down Stryker's sweaty neck. "Imagine the medical advancements! Logan, normally, she wouldn't be able to but your mate, she's special. The hotel room, we'd been watching, we were certain it would happen then…"

"Never will you hurt her. Or our child. Never," Logan hissed. He pulled his arm back, ready to strike. Stryker closed his eyes, waiting for his impending demise. Just as Logan's arm moved forward, pain erupted at the base of his skull and everything went black.

Thanks to:

**Phantom Ange, **and **crusherccme** for the Story Alert/Favorite adds! Keep reading!

Also...

**AreyouSirius-questionmark: **I hope this was soon enough!

**crusherccme: **Thanks! I'm glad you liked it! I hope this chapter keeps you interested!

**GypsyWitchBaby: **You're so welcome! You inspired me so it's only fair! And the muses have been very, very busy this week! I already have the next chapter but I'm gonna make you all wait and see!

**Carlypso: **Thanks for the review! Keep doing it!


	11. Chapter 11: Gone

He sat up with a start. Where was she? Where was his Aya? He leapt off the cot he was lying on and looked around the tiny room. She wasn't there. Panic rose in his throat.

"Stryker!" he roared. He unsheathed his claws and slashed the wall to release some anger. He spied a camera in the corner of the room. He roared and slashed the cord, disconnecting it. He panted with anger. Suddenly, he dropped to his knees. Aya. She had her knees clutched to her chest and she was baring her fangs, snarling at him. _Oh shit, _he thought. How the hell was he supposed to escape with her when she was like this? He growled back and stood. What had happened? Suddenly, the heavy steel door opened slightly. A thin, smug-looking Asian man stepped in. He wore a thin Kevlar vest and Logan could see a gun on either hip. He sniffed the air. There was no fear.

"Zero," he heard Victor whisper. Logan's own mouth formed the word at the same time. Zero chuckled and stepped inside.

"You like that shot to the back of your head? I would've let you turn around but the situation didn't call for it," he said coyly. Logan felt Victor's inner animal roar, waiting to be released. That was one thing he knew he learned Victor. How to be a beast.

Logan lunged. He was faster than Zero and sliced deep into his gut. Zero gasped and winced.

"I can feel when I cut through scar tissue. Apparently this isn't the first time I've gutted you," he hissed. He pulled his claws out slowly. Zero fell to the floor. Logan grunted and reached under the bed. He grabbed a shrieking clawing Aya and threw her over his shoulder. He ran out the open door and down the hall. They would _never _give Stryker what he wanted. _Never. _He ran down the hall. No guards lined the hall. Where was Cage? He would have to leave him for now. But he would come back. He turned down a hallway and saw the man he was looking for.

"Stryker!"he roared. He put Aya down and charged down the hallway. He grabbed the man and threw him against the wall. "Tell me how to get out of here and never follow us again," he hissed. Stryker moved his mouth like a fish out of water. "You made this beast, now face him! Tell me or I kill you!" he snarled, slamming Stryker into the wall, denting the plaster.

"D—down the hall, turn right."

"Call off the guards and give me Cage," he ordered.

"Cage was released." Logan sniffed the air. He reeked of fear but he was telling the truth. "I'll c—call them off. P—please, don't kill me." Logan growled. Aya lashed out, striking him hard across his calf. He faltered but quickly recovered, throwing Stryker onto the floor.

Logan grabbed her again, taking her angry blows. He followed Stryker's directions. Suddenly, she gouged deep into his eye. He dropped her, cursing angrily. Eyes were particularly growing back. He stumbled forward blindly for a moment. Finally, once the eye had stitched itself together, he blinked. She was gone. He raced from the compound, searching. Where had she gone? She had left him.

He searched the woods, the compound, the nearest towns. He searched for days but his beautiful love had disappeared without him. She had left him alone in his misery. He longed to feel her touch, her embrace. He longed to hear her rhythmic humming heartbeat and smell her sweet scent. But she was gone. Not a trace of her remained.

"Aya," the name stumbled from his lips. Even Victor was quiet. He'd understood what it was like to lose a mate. But he would be just the same as Victor. He would never give up searching. Never give up hoping he would find her again. Because he would. He would….

**SheWolf is finished! I did it! I'm so thankful to all my readers/fans. I hope this chapter wasn't too much of a letdown but I didn't want to keep dragging the story out. Stay tuned for the next installment to the series (hopefully, it'll last me a while). I need to go back and fine-tune a few details and make sure I incorporate the movies properly. And a special thanks to GypsyWitchBaby for the inspiration! I hope to see a Victor/Lupa meeting in the next installment!**


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